


Touch Me, Hold Me, Love Me

by katehathaway



Series: Only Everything [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Break Up, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Good Draco Malfoy, Gratuitous Smut, I literally listened to Love Me Like You Do on repeat while writing this, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ron Weasley Bashing, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24736999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katehathaway/pseuds/katehathaway
Summary: The tension is tangible. She knows if she gives in to her desires, she'll likely regret it, but the logical voice inside her head disappears as his lips burn against hers, taking her to a place she'd never known.Smut. Literally just smut. There is very little plot here so if that's not your thing, I kindly ask that you not read it.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Only Everything [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788676
Comments: 2
Kudos: 130





	Touch Me, Hold Me, Love Me

The hostess showed Hermione to a booth in the corner of the quaint restaurant.

She fumbled with her skirt for the thousandth time that day; she'd specifically chosen one of her less-casual outfits in the hopes of impressing him. Things have been. . . uneasy. . . between them lately and she wanted to put her best foot forward. After all, he'd been the one to break their silence and call her for this dinner.

That had to mean something. . . right?

To say they drifted apart would be an understatement. What once contained passion and endless romantic gestures – albeit not ones she fully understood, but nonetheless, the intention was there – had gradually turned into something that involved awkward hugs and no more than three words between each other before bed.

They had dated for quite a while, and when they both realized the next step in their relationship involved moving in together. . . well, let's just say that the fizzled spark of their relationship opted to be put out altogether.

At least, temporarily. That's what they'd both agreed on. A break would be good for their relationship. It would give them the space they needed to sort themselves out and figure out what they really wanted.

To figure out _who_ they really wanted.

Hermione absentmindedly toyed with the napkin in her lap. She was early. Of course, she was always early and being excited about meeting him for dinner had only made her timeliness better. The fact that he still hadn't shown yet was unnerving.

"Hey," A familiar voice said as it slid into the booth across from hers.

His red hair swept to one side and by the looks of it was in desperate need of a trim. It hung low enough to cause his eyelashes to flutter and spasm as he spoke. Every twitch of muscle in his face stretching the hundreds of freckles across his pale complexion.

"Hi, Ron." She greeted, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

She'd hoped that their time apart would result in a rekindling of their flame, but she only felt ever more awkward before him.

"So, Hermione," He started.

"Water?" The waitress interrupted with a plastic grin on her face.

She leaned over the table to reach for Ron's glass and, as she did, managed to place her perky tits in perfect line of sight for him. Hermione had to fight the reflux in the back of her throat as his eyes hung and lingered on her chest. Her blonde hair swept into a perfect ponytail that flicked this way and that as she pointedly turned and strutted away with a purposeful sway of her hips.

Consequently, she'd _forgotten_ to fill Hermione's glass with water.

Once Ron finally tore his eyes away from the waitresses' arse and focused them on Hermione's scowl – rightfully looking ashamed – he cleared his throat and tried talking again.

"Listen, Hermione. We've been apart for quite some time." – _Months_ – "and I think it's time we decide what's really best for us moving forward." – _Us. Ok, promising so far. –_ "I think it would be a good idea that we extend this break. You know, permanently."

_Ok. . . what the fuck?_

"It's not - "

"No," She brandished a finger in his face. "Don't you dare give me that cliché, Ronald. What is this really about?"

"Well, in all honesty, I really don't think we're that compatible. We don't have anything in common anymore. Nothing to talk about. I mean the sex was," – _Fine. Mediocre, possibly._ – "well, that's not the point. You're not interested in anything I'm interested in." – _Perhaps that's because there's more to the world than quidditch, Ronald_ – "and half the time I don't even know what you're talking about."

"So, you're breaking up with me?"

"You two ready to order?" The waitress cut in.

Hermione shot her a mean glare that the young witch purposefully ignored in favor of smiling stupidly at Ron. He gave her a lopsided grin and an apologetic shrug.

"Maybe in a minute, yeah?"

She sauntered away visibly deflated. Hermione didn't care. She rounded on Ron with the same menacing glare she'd just given the tall blonde.

He fished through his pockets for his wallet and threw some galleons on the table before standing up and giving her his best puppy-dog-face.

"I'm sorry, Mione, really."

"Don't call me that." She snapped.

He turned and headed for the door; she stood and followed after him, screaming at him as he walked briskly down the busy street.

"HOW DARE YOU RONALD WEASLEY. THERE WAS NO NEED TO DRAG ME OUT FOR DINNER JUST TO BREAK UP WITH ME BEFORE THE APPETIZERS EVEN SHOWED UP. YOU BLOODY IDIOT. THAT'S RIGHT WALK AWAY. WALK AWAY LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO YOU. . . YOU COWARD!"

The anger dried up as he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Hermione suddenly felt very, very empty. She ungracefully collapsed on the pavement and put her head between her knees while racking sobs tore themselves from her sore throat.

A light tap on her shoulder caused her to whip her head up and peer at whomever had the death wish to disturb her.

"Hey,"

She squinted in the dim twilight to see stormy grey eyes staring down at her. He was as stoic and handsome as she remembered. His tall, lean frame appearing even taller and more filled out from her current perspective. Or perhaps, he'd grown into his figure since they'd graduated from Hogwarts?

"Here."

He held out a hand with a single, ivory handkerchief in it. When she didn't take it, he arched an eyebrow – just one, which was something she was innately envious of – and looked at her with such a calm expression, she couldn't help but feel immediately embarrassed of her current, chaotic state.

Her mascara must have run down her face and smudged around her eyes to make her look even more crazy as she violently wiped away the tears that clung to her waterline. She sniffled and rose to her feet – oh yes, he was definitely better looking than she recalled and certainly taller – then crossed her arms defiantly.

"I'm fine." She muttered.

"You don't look fine. Take it." He held out the white slip emphatically.

This time, she took it and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks, wiping away the makeup she resented even putting on in the first place.

"Do you always carry one of these around?" She'd meant for the question to be demeaning. But he didn't even blink.

"Yes. Mother insists I always have one on me." He pursed his lips and gave her a swift once-over. "For situations like this, I imagine."

"Like I said, Malfoy, I'm fine." She said.

"You know I don't believe you, right? Not after hearing that row."

"You heard that?"

He scoffed. "Granger, the whole block heard that."

"Oh,"

She shuffled uncomfortably between her feet, avoiding meeting his intense eyes.

"Not that the weasel didn't deserve every word of it." He added.

She looked up, "Yeah?"

"Don't fish for more." He reprimanded. "Though, I did enjoy that bit about how stupid he looked in that hand-me-down sweater."

"I didn't," She blinked, trying to recall exactly what she'd shouted in her maddened daze. "I didn't say that."

"No? Oh, must have just been in my head then."

"You haven't changed one bit, Malfoy." She ducked her head, hiding the playful smirk that spread across her lips without her permission.

"I beg to differ," He replied with a shrug of his sculpted shoulders.

"You know," he went on. "I was actually on my way to pick up some takeout when you so rudely interrupted my quiet stroll down the street with your absurd row. I do recall you screaming about how the pathetic weasel ditched you before the food came out." He arched a single, silvery brow. "Care to join me?"

She opened her mouth to protest, to swear that nothing could convince her to have dinner with him, when her stomach growled loudly enough for him to let out a soft chuckle.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Hermione cursed herself for withholding lunch in order to fit into the tight skirt, but her mind was promptly wiped blank as he gingerly rested his hand at her mid back, guiding her down the street alongside him. When she finally fell in step and held his pace on her own accord, he – albeit much to her dismay – removed what little pressure his hand had previously held and stuffed it into his trouser pocket.

They settled themselves at a table outside of the takeout restaurant and dug into their dumplings without much more conversation.

Hermione was thankful for the silence. It gave her time to go over what had just happened. It all seemed so surreal; like it was some strange dream that she was going to wake up from.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She blurted out.

He arched a brow again instead of giving an answer.

"Well?" She prompted.

"You're too impatient, Granger. That much hasn't changed about you."

"You're evading the question, Malfoy. That hasn't changed about you."

He offered a shrug, "Would you rather I not be nice to you?"

"Answering a question with another question is so Slytherin of you," She commented. "But no. I prefer this Malfoy." She gestured to the one sitting before her.

"So why do you care, then?"

She bit her lip – and tried not to notice as his eyes dilated – "I'm not sure. I guess it's just because today just feels so upside down. Ron was a pompous arse. You're a gentleman. It's all very. . . strange."

"That's. . . fair, I suppose. Though, for the record, Weasley was always a pompous arse. You were just too naïve to see it." He said.

"Hey!" She flicked a bit of ginger at him. "Don't make me take back what I said about you."

"Did you just _throw food_ at me?" He gasped.

"Maybe I did," She smiled sweetly. "Maybe I didn't."

He smirked at her, "And now you're flirting with me? Fuck, Granger, I think you're right. I think today has gone upside down."

"If you're agreeing with me, then it clearly has."

He winked at her.

She shoved a dumpling soaked in soy in her mouth, furiously chewing to stop her from blushing. He was toying with her; she could tell from the lack of tension in his arms and shoulders as he reached for a napkin in the middle of the table.

He tentatively held it out to her.

Hermione eyed the napkin and instinctively recoiled, then wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"No," he shook his head, then took hold of her slender wrist with one hand while dabbing at the corner of her mouth with the other. "Here."

 _Here_.

Every time he said it, it was so commanding. The first time, it had caught her off guard. This time, it made her heart rate skyrocket. He brought the napkin to where her upper and lower lips met and dabbed purposefully with precision. His eyes darkened as he focused on the task. She felt her own breath catch as the scent of cedar and teakwood wafted through her senses. She watched as his eyes lifted to meet hers, and then he backed away with a sharp inhale.

In one movement, he dropped her arm and the napkin and stood abruptly at the side of the table. He patted his pockets and kept his gaze away from hers, but now she felt she couldn't tear hers away from him.

"I better go," He said.

"No," She thrust out her arm, taking a hold of his forearm and pulling him back toward the table. "Wait."

She stood, aware of her labored breathing and the wild look she must have in her eyes. She stared into his stormy, grey eyes contemplating her next move.

Everything that felt so strange and upside down to her, suddenly felt _right_.

Hermione often found herself caught up in the logistics of a situation; although, that particular way of thinking had gotten her out of as much trouble as it had gotten her into it. Hadn't Ron convinced her that taking a break from each other was _the best thing_ for their relationship at the time? Hadn't it been her ill-wit that told her to _wait for him_?

Look at how poorly that logical decision had gone.

For once, Hermione wanted to act impulsively. She didn't want to weigh the pros and cons of a situation. She didn't want to think about the tens of hundreds of possibilities that could stem from a single decision and what repercussions each possibility might have for her. She was _tired_ of having to be the logical one.

She was so, so tired.

All Hermione wanted to do was act in the moment.

So, she did.

She closed the distance between her and Malfoy and snaked an arm behind his neck, bringing his lips down to meet hers. She felt him gasp into her mouth and then return the forceful kiss with equal fervor.

Hermione broke away with labored breathing. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she instinctively placed her fingertips on her warm, swollen lips.

Neither of them said a word for a complete minute.

The sounds of their ragged breathing encompassing the air around them.

Then, his hands cupped the sides of her face and dragged it upward to meet his. His lips were on hers again; his tongue brushing her bottom lip before sliding into her mouth. Her hands were pressed firmly against his chest, and she could feel the hard muscles contract as she tentatively lowered her hands to his abdomen. One of his hands had found its way to the small of her back and was pulling her in close, while the other was burying itself in her curls and tugging her head back.

When her hands found his belt, he pulled away forcefully; he left her wild and gasping for air.

"Granger," He huffed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm not sure," She replied, her eyes never leaving his. "That's _why_ I want to do this."

"I'm not like what you said earlier. I'm not a good guy. I'm not different. I won't be nice to you." He warned.

"Good. I don't want nice. Nice decided it didn't want me anymore. Nice gave me empty promises."

She swallowed, her breathing still completely erratic. Though, based on the intense rise and fall of his chest, Malfoy wasn't in control either.

"All I know is that right now, I want you. I want you to make me forget about _nice_ and erase his touch."

"That," He replied. "I can do."

The logical voice in the back of her mind told her she'd likely come to regret what came next.

She promptly told it to _fuck off_.

* * *

His lips burned against hers as they stumbled through her flat. Amazingly, Ron had never kept anything at her place in all the time they'd been together, and perhaps that should've been a sign, but she it wasn't really at the forefront of her thoughts at the moment.

He flicked his wand to clear the small dining table of its décor and deposited her on top of it. It was _hot_. He hadn't even _touched_ her yet and she was already more wanting and much more unwound than she had ever been with Ron.

It wasn't as if they'd had the worst sex, necessarily. But it most definitely wasn't _this._

No, this was astronomically better already. This was darkened grey eyes focused on her, silvery blonde hair that fell out of place and brushed up against her slick forehead, and skillful fingers that tugged at her clothing with so much haste it was as if they were on fire and he was trying desperately to free her from the flames.

Except, he was the fire. His touch was hot and burned her at every point of contact. His breath warm against her neck; his lips sucking on the fragile, thin skin. He was careful, though, and calculated. She doubted she would see any marks there the next day.

He brought her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders and leaned forward to stretch her hamstrings to their maximum, nearly folding her in half. She would be more impressed with her agility if he wasn't trailing his nimble fingers down her inner thighs and towards her –

 _Oh_.

She inhaled a miniscule gasp as his fingers encircled her slit from the other side of her satin panties. She silently thanked her earlier self for being so eager to meet Ron and so hopeful for things to go well that she'd opted for sexier underwear than her everyday cotton. Arguably, this is a much better outcome than she had predicted when she slid the green satin on that morning.

His eyes flickered down and then met hers when they came back up. He arched a brow – she was really going to have to learn how to do that, it was so practical – and licked his lips pointedly at her.

"Green, Granger?"

She held back a whimper.

"Purely coincidence, Malfoy."

"Hmm. I'm sure."

His eyes never left hers as he slid the thin material to the side and began encircling her again, but this time with skin-to-skin contact. It drove her _mad._

With one swift movement, he pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his mouth. His tongue flicked against the satin material of her panties, soaking them more than they already were. She wanted to buck against him, to help release some of the building pressure caused by his tongue, but she couldn't because his palms were firmly pressing her hips and stomach into the table.

The inability to move was making her go insane. He wasn't even inside her yet and she was already completely unraveling beneath him. Torturously, he moved his mouth from her clit to trail along her inner thigh, occasionally nipping at her skin on the way up to her ankles. One hand held her against the table still as the other reached under her skirt and pulled her soaked green panties slowly up her bare legs.

He smirked at her before leaning in – again, bending her legs so that her knees pressed into her chest – and whispered in her ear.

"I think I'll hold onto these for now."

She nearly convulsed.

He ducked his head into the nape of her neck, pressing a soft, sweet kiss behind her ear, then down the side of her neck; at the same time, he slid one, then two fingers into her. She could feel just how slick she was already and if it wasn't so hot that he did this to her so quickly, it would be completely embarrassing.

He swallowed her gasp with his lips, then took her bottom lip between his and gently pulled on it between his teeth. She arched her back in response and quickly began to unbutton his shirt. Not that she wasn't loving giving up control to him under these conditions, but she wanted to see him gasp at her touch. As her cool hands found the warmth of his lower torso, she was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath and the reflexive hardening of his muscles.

His fingers were excruciatingly slow; going inside her and pressing up against the ball of nerves with a precision meant to completely undo her, and then pulling out of her when she was tantalizingly close to breaking.

"What are you waiting for?" She rasped.

His shoulder shook with laughter as he lowered his mouth to her breasts and flicked his tongue against a nipple.

"You're too impatient, Granger."

She threw her head back with every intent on groaning at his torturous pace, but instead a small moan escaped.

"You don't play fair." She commented, readjusting herself to try and reach for his belt.

"You have no idea," He replied.

Malfoy stepped away from the edge of the table, allowing her to prop herself up on her elbows, and swiftly removed his shirt along with the rest of his clothing. Hermione had to physically bite down on her tongue in order not to comment on his length. It was impressive to say the least.

She sat up and yanked her top and bra off and flung it to the side. To remove her skirt, she'd have to stand; Malfoy shook his head at her, giving her a stern look as he sauntered back towards her.

"Here," – _Fuck –_ "Let me."

He knelt down – because he was so fucking tall – and placed himself between her knees. He rested his elbows on her inner thighs and, without warning, slid them as far apart as she would comfortably let them go.

She swept away the silvery blonde hairs that fell from his face as he leaned in and pressed his hot mouth to her clit. His flicked against her while he slid a finger inside of her. Biting back a whimper, she took hold of the back of his head to steady herself as he lit a fire inside of her.

He drove her to the edge and back again; she was panting from being so close to release. Finally, he brought her over the edge, and she cried out with a soft moan as her orgasm rippled through her. His fingers guided her through the orgasm, helping her ride it out to its full extension.

Once the spots at the back of her eyelids faded and her scattered brain reorganized into focused thoughts, she was almost positive that had to be her first orgasm. Or, at least, her first epic one.

She lifted his head and brought his burning lips to hers, welcoming the hormonal direction of her mind to focus on one clear objective. Nothing else existed in that moment except him and her.

He slid and arm around her waist and hoisted her up, guiding her farther back onto the table as he followed her onto it. She hooked her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his firm behind.

With his teeth biting down on his lip, he angled his tip at her opening. She could feel her lungs collapse at the anticipation and snapped her chin up to meet his darkened, grey eyes. They were watching her, searching her face, and she felt herself fall into a deep hole within them.

Still not breaking eye contact, he slid his length inside of her and enclosed her gasp between his breath.

She let him set the pace.

He thrust into her again. . . and again. . . and again until both of them were panting, sweating, and so close to the edge that the lightest touch would surely send them both toppling over.

"Malfoy," She whispered, barely audible, into the nape of his neck.

He tensed above her, and she felt herself stiffen before her own release. Both of their muscles, previously tight, collapsed under the exertion and he fell on top of her; the sweat that built on both of their bodies creating a layer of heat between them.

"Granger," he murmured amidst the mess of her hair.

"Yes?" She replied, still trying to catch her breath.

"That can't happen again."

"It won't."

"Good."

* * *

The following night Hermione opted to go out to a local bar. She was single, after all, and with Malfoy upholding his promise of debauchery, it wasn't as if he was an option.

You would think that after their sexual order the night before that she would be exhausted, or at the very least, put off from trying to look for another encounter. Unfortunately, Malfoy had woken some deep, dark sensual demon inside of her that refused to leave her alone.

So, she went out for drinks.

Although, Hermione had been far too nervous to venture out on her own, so she'd dragged Luna out with her. Normally, Ginny would be her girlfriend of choice for any social outing, but she was currently traveling with her team and wouldn't be back in town for another few weeks.

It was probably for the best, though, considering she couldn't stop ranting about how horrid Ron had been to her. Better that Ginny now have to listen to her.

Arguably, Luna wasn't even that close of a friend to Hermione. They certainly didn't see eye to eye what with Luna constantly talking about things that Hermione doubted even existed; it was difficult to hold Luna's attention on any subject of interest to Hermione, and when she did manage to grab it, it didn't provide any substantial input for productive conversation.

But who else did she really have?

Harry was out of the question, for obvious reasons, and Ron was the entire reason she was even in this fucking situation.

So. . . Luna.

"You should really try my drink," Luna said.

Hermione knew she was talking to her despite the girl's eyes wandering along the ceiling.

"I'm good, thanks," She held up her own beer emphatically.

Luna simply shrugged and tipped her lilac-colored cocktail down her throat.

Hermione sighed. They hadn't even been there for longer than twenty minutes and she already wanted to go home. She had come looking for a potential date for the night, but after surveying the crowd, she felt instantly deflated. No one would compare.

She turned to Luna to tell her that she was going to go freshen up in the bathroom, but she wasn't beside her any more.

"Luna?" She asked, glancing around the bar.

Nothing.

_Great._

Hermione tipped the remainder of her beer back and let the empty glass thud against the bar as she turned and made her way for the bathroom.

It would probably be a good idea to freshen up – even though she had previously come up with that for an excuse to get away from the noisy crowd for a moment – and have a glass of water before attempting to apparate back to her flat, unless she wanted to end up spliced.

There were several separate doors for all occupants, so she angled herself toward an unlocked door and closed it behind her, letting the loud music immediately decrease to no more than muffled bass.

She stood in front of the mirror and splashed some cold water on her face before drying it off and patting down the back of her neck. Luckily her wild curls – no more unruly than usual – had maintained some form of order despite the humidity and crowds in the bar.

Hermione swore to herself never to do this endeavor again. She was better off sending a pathetic owl to Malfoy or researching how to pleasure oneself and just staying in for the night.

A moment later, there was a creak as someone began to open the door.

"Occupied!" She yelled over her shoulder.

"I know."

The sound of the door locking echoed in the quiet space of the small bathroom.

Hermione slowly turned at the sound of that voice, the one that sent shivers up and down her spine, the one that could whisper one word and have her already coming undone.

"Malfoy," She said.

"Granger," He replied.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I suppose I could ask you the same thing." He smirked. "But, if you meant what I'm doing in this bathroom, well," His dark eyes burned intensely into hers. "Isn't it obvious?"

She fought back swallowing the lump in her throat, and instead countered with, "I thought you said we were a one-time thing. That _I_ was a one-time thing."

"Maybe I did," He shrugged, then stepped closer to her. "Maybe I didn't."

Hermione backed up instinctively and found herself backed against the sink and counter.

"I specifically recall that you did," She retorted.

His smirk widened into a mischievous grin.

"Would you rather I leave you to it then?" He argued.

She let out a shaky breath, "Yes," She lied.

Something in his silvery eyes flickered and told her that he wasn't expecting to be challenged, but that he _liked_ it.

"Granger," He said, taking another purposeful stride closer to her, "I'm finding that when it comes to you, I have very little control over my actions. It's unusual, to say the least, and I find it rather unnerving."

"I find that hard to believe," She said, her gaze dropping to his impeccable outfit and then back up to meet his stormy eyes.

If wanted a challenge, she would gladly give him one.

He shook his head, "And here I thought that _you'd_ be the one knocking at _my_ door. Well, I can't say I'm not surprised."

"Is there something that you want, or are you just here to taunt me?"

His eyes flickered up and down, taking in her current attire – a blazer pulled over an appropriately fashioned dress Ginny had gifted her for a birthday (which meant it was definitely sexier than anything Hermione would've chosen on her own).

"You know what I want."

"Malfoy," she tsk-ed, "I'm afraid I'm not what you're looking for. I can't promise I'll be nice to you."

His eyes glinted as he closed what remained of the space between them and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, then leaned in and whispered, "I don't want you to be nice to me, Granger."

There goes that telltale shiver.

She reached behind his neck and tugged at his hair so that his face was angled with hers; his eyes focused on her. She licked her lips pointedly and nudged her chin up, brushing her nose against his.

"Good." She whispered back.

He lifted her and placed atop the bathroom counter in one swift motion. Her hands instinctively found the buttons of his shirt and roughly began undoing them; a hiss escaped his lips as her cool touch scraped against his warm chest.

His hands tangled themselves in her hair, tugging the unruly curls out of her ponytail and letting this softly bounce against his cheek as he leaned in to roughly kiss her. He found himself, once again, lost in her.

She had that unnerving effect on him recently and he hated it.

He hated not being in control.

Abruptly, Malfoy broke away and dragged a hand over his mouth, wiping away any trace of her taste. He gasped for air as he let his fingers find their way up his shirt, buttoning the expensive fabric and tucking it back into his trousers.

"We can't keep doing this," He said.

"Why not?" She frowned.

Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to regain any sense of control over his more primal urges to take her back in his arms and never let her go.

"I don't want this." He replied, his eyes opening and focusing on hers.

"Didn't you just say that you did?" She countered.

He raked a hand through his hair. "No, I mean, I don't want _this_." He gestured to the space between them. "Us."

She tilted her head to the side. "There is no 'us'." She said.

"I know," He agreed. "There can't be, either."

"I never said I wanted there to be. I'm not trying to hold you to any sort of standards or trap you in a relationship." Her voice was calm, cool, and collected.

"Good." He said, suddenly feeling the fight leave him.

"This is just sex, Malfoy. I'm well aware of that." She paused, eying him carefully. "Are you?"

"Yes, of course!" He snapped back.

"Well," She said, then hopped off the counter and pulled her dress down from where it had been hitched up above her hips. "I'm leaving. Are you going to come with me?"

 _No_. He told himself. _Absolutely not_.

"Yes." His voice betrayed him.

"Good."

She moved around him to unlock the door and step outside; a minute later, he followed.

* * *

"This really can't keep happening." He admonished.

"I know." She mused, running a finger down his bare chest and back up. "It's very unhealthy."

"Revolting." He amended.

"Despicable."

"Nonsensical."

"Ooh," Her eyes flickered up to meet his with a wry grin spreading across her lips. "That's a big word for you, Malfoy, I must say I'm impressed."

He scoffed. "Oh, please, Granger, as if you didn't know how devilishly handsome and tremendously intelligent, I was."

This time, she snorted under her breath. She sat up and shifted to pin him beneath her hips on her bed, then wrapped her delicate hands around his shoulders to hold him down.

"Tremendously intelligent?" She teased with a smirk.

"Without question." He replied, feeling his heart rate increase at her touch.

She leaned in closer to him and pressed her chest against his; the soft cotton of one of his old shirts loosely hanging off her shoulders. She looked good in her Slytherin Quidditch ensemble, and he thought for a moment how much of a shame it was that she didn't like flying or he imagined she would've looked even hotter in a quidditch uniform.

"Devilishly handsome?" She pressed, a whisper against his neck followed by a soft kiss.

"Obviously."

She nipped at his neck before straightening her back and peering down at him from between the wild frenzy of her post-sex curls.

"Arrogant arse," She chided. "Where do you get the idea that you're so good-looking, hm?"

"Well," He smirked. "I do happen to have the brightest witch of her age straddling me, and" he emphatically angled his head towards the clothes strewn over her bedroom floor, "her panties are somewhere over there, as I recall, which means," – he flipped her over and pinned her beneath him, then slipped his hand between her thighs, rubbing his palm against her clit until she let out a soft moan – "that I must be handsome enough to entice her while also being clever enough to keep her."

Her hips instinctively bucked against his, giving in to his touch as she always did. To be fair, it was unequivocally two-sided seeing as he melted under her touch in a similar fashion.

"Keep her?" She breathed.

He focused his darkened, stormy eyes on her, then watched her bite her lip as he slid a finger inside.

"Yes," – he kissed her chin, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone – "Is that all right?"

Her nails dug into his back and drew him closer to her.

"Yes."

He grinned wickedly against her breast before taking a nipple between his teeth.

She inhaled sharply as withdrew his finger and slid himself inside of her, rubbing his thumb against her clit.

"Good." He smiled against her lips.

"Good." She agreed.


End file.
